


Loki's Muse

by Palefire73



Category: Avengers, Loki - Fandom, Writing - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, sweary, twist - Freeform, writers block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4214004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palefire73/pseuds/Palefire73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am the one in control here. I am. I'm the one who decides when I write, when I type it up, who does what, who says what.</p>
<p>Aren't I?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, yes, this idea popped in my head at about midnight last night - when I woke up in front of my computer screen with a half empty glass of wine........... (can you tell?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loki's Muse

**Author's Note:**

> A weeny bit sweary, but I hope you like the story. Thanks for looking :D

“Fuck!” I groaned and threw my pen on the table in frustration; the black Bic skittered across the wooden surface and dropped to the floor where it rolled and came to a sad stop next to the one of the legs.

 

Writer’s Block.

 

I leaned down and picked the pen back up, then started to doodle, trying to get the words to flow again.

 

B – Bloody

L – Loss

O – Of

C – Coherent

K – K…..    I couldn’t even finish the fucking acronym.

 

Sighing, I poured another glass of wine from the half empty bottle next to my computer screen and looked at the blinking cursor. Cursor –  _so called because I curse it so much?_  I wondered. It was no good. I fired up Spotify and put on some random tunes – the ones that usually got my imagination going – and decided to make a picture for the latest chapter of my fanfic. The chapter I was having trouble writing.

 

“My” Loki was in the middle of an incredibly sensitive situation with one of my favourite OCs and he just would not say what I wanted him to say. The head canon I had for “My” Loki’s character would just not allow it – in my universe, Loki would simply not exhibit the behaviour I had been leading him towards for about four chapters. I’d had great feedback from readers at revealing this new side to him, but the more I tried to write those lines for him, the more my pen seemed to resist. It was as if my muse was fighting me every step of the way.

 

I took a large swallow of the Cabernet, savouring the rich blackcurrant flavour followed by the warm spices and clicked on an icon to start up the imaging software I used for photomanipulation. “Loki. You are an A-Grade Arsehole.” I grumbled and started to scroll through hundreds of stock photos to try to find the right one for the inspiration for the chapter title picture. I glanced at my Avengers Loki clock – 9.20pm – more than enough time to get one done. I should be finished about 1am, which would give me about 6 hours sleep before getting up for work. I selected a picture and began to alter it, humming along to the music playing in the background and hoping fresh ideas about Loki’s dialogue with my character would spark in my mind.

 

Instead, the music made me melancholic and I began to drain the wine glass a lot faster than the image on the computer was changing to my satisfaction. Images of Loki in every form I had ever seen began to play through my mind as I lost concentration and began to daydream about what direction my story would take next. After a while, though, I realised my writing – and my picture - were going nowhere fast. My over-active imagination was, not for the first time, building scenarios where my favourite – OK my visually favourite, not necessarily my all-round favourite – version of Loki, which was that smoulderingly handsome yet vulnerable imprisoned mess in “The Dark World” magically appeared in my house. In these scenarios, he usually found me upset and lonely, struggling to stay awake at two in the morning while I “Just read another fic” and falling asleep at my desk with half written fics and half drawn pictures on the screen. Then he would sympathise and stay with me to…. comfort me.

 

Fucking fantasies.

 

I felt like life was just being a top class bitch and I knew I should just go to bed and get some sleep, but it was as if someone else was in control of me. My actions did not match the common sense in my mind. I laughed ironically as the shuffle mode on Spotify opened up my “Sad Loki Tracks” playlist. I was definitely here for another two hours then and I would probably be an utter mess by the time the music ended. I poured another glass of wine and drank while I made the picture I wanted start to appear, using harsh brushstrokes and soft filtering to alter the image I had started with. I zoomed in to put fine detail in and then zoomed out to check the overall effect.

 

Once I was satisfied it was done and starting to doze off every few minutes because of the effect of the wine and the late hour, I added my handle to the picture.

 

“[palefire73](http://palefire73.deviantart.com/)….” I murmured.

 

“Hang on – who is ‘[palefire73](http://palefire73.deviantart.com/)’? That’s not my name!”

 

Wondering why I had put a pseudonym on the picture to publish it, I clicked on the tab for the internet to check against the website for my page name. A feeling of unreality flickered across my mind as I stared at the screen, unable to understand. Had I been hacked? Tumblr, Twitter, Deva, AO3…. all of them were [palefire73](http://palefire73.deviantart.com/).

 

Again I had the feeling that I was being controlled by someone and then something else struck me. I couldn’t remember what I had been doing before I had thrown the pen across the table earlier. In fact, as I looked around I started to wonder where I was and why it seemed so familiar to me. How had I got here? I turned slowly to the screen and clicked on my profiles on the computer, looking at each one in turn. I did not recognise the avatars and the descriptions seemed as if they had been written for me, rather than by me. Those pictures could have been me or anyone and I would not know.

 

Nervously and with a feeling that perhaps I did not want to know the answer, I clicked on the profile ‘about me’ tab on one of the blogs under what appeared to be my preferred internet name. I waited for the page to load, tapping my fingertips anxiously on the desk.

 

“[palefire73](http://palefire73.deviantart.com/):

 

Hi, I am Loki’s main OC in his AU fic. I was created to explore what it would be like to be a female fan fic writer on his brother’s realm of Midgard! Explore the gallery to see what I get……”

 

I read on, not quite believing what I was seeing. I was not an OC!! I  _wrote_  OCs! I was a living, breathing person, not words strung together on a website by my very own principal character! I had feelings, I was here, I…..

 

A message icon came up on one of the writing sites and I clicked it to see what it was. Someone had left feedback on a story I had submitted only the day before. There! That proved it. I triumphantly clicked to see what they had said:

 

“Love it! Such a weird idea, Loki. You are really quite creative  Why would Midgardians write fiction about their ruler and his family, anyway? Loved the twist!!!

 

    More, please xxx”

     

_“What the hell?”_  I thought,  _“I am not called ‘Loki’, either! I write about him!”_  I clicked on the story the comment had been left on to read it back. It was called “Loki’s Muse”. I didn’t even remember writing it – let alone posting it on the net. I had probably been really tired, or drunk – or both.

 

So I started reading it:

 

 

“           “Fuck!” I groaned and threw my pen on the table in frustration; the black Bic skittered across the wooden surface and dropped to the floor where it rolled and came to a sad stop next to the one of the legs……”

 


End file.
